


The Sound of Sickness

by Anonymous



Category: Poldark (TV 2015), Return to Treasure Island (TV 1996)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Man-flu, Sick Characters, Sickfic, being down with the flu, men having the flu
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-19 01:08:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29499309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Gathering FIKi H/C bingo, prompt "being down with a cold or flu"It turns out that going out for dinner hadn't been a good idea after all.
Relationships: Jim Hawkins/Ross Poldark
Comments: 3
Kudos: 14
Collections: GatheringFiKi - H/C Bingo 2021





	The Sound of Sickness

Dwight opened the door with the spare key, carefully looking around before he entered the apartment with two fully packed shopping bags in his arms. When he sat foot in the hall, he could hear the expected, characteristical noises coming from the bedroom. Frequently and only giving a hint about what might go on behind the closed door.

He briefly wondered, if he should risk a glance, but decided against it. Curiosity killed the cat, after all.

Accompanied by the specific sound from the bedroom, he went to the kitchen. He carefully sat down the bags, double-checking he wouldn't touch a thing. To be safe, he had put on disposable gloves before opening the door. This way he made sure to not get in contact with whatever bodyfluids Ross and Jim might have spread there.

Before he left, he stopped for another second, listening. The bedroom noises seemed now even louder, and for a second time this day, he felt tempted to peek inside. No, the risk was too high.

From what he could hear, Ross had not overstated when he had called him this morning. Not in the slightest, as the specific sounds reaching his ears made one thing very clear. Behind that door, only perdition lurked. He could hear it in every tone; the characteristic sounds of two adult men, utterly wrecked and completely spent, barely able to take a breath between what kept them busy. The sound of two grown men suffering anguish, as both had come down with a severe flu only the day before, now being bed-stricken, constantly coughing and sneezing.

He quickly left the apartment, enjoying the silence of the quiet side road, the sounds of sickness caged in the small house with its poor residents.

* * *

_ One hour later _

The sound of a foghorn thundered through his cloudy mind when he woke up from a short, fitful sleep, causing the permanent throbbing headache to go through the roof. He groaned in pain and before he could even move, he started to cough. A similar groan from the other side of the bed was what caught his attention. When he tried to turn his head, he noticed he couldn't have been more mistaken when thinking it couldn't get any worse. It could, as even that little movement hurt his muscles. He was sick; very very sick. The world had come to an end the day before when it got clear that Jim had caught the flu.  _ They  _ had. Together. Simultaneously. 

In the morning they both had been fine, chatting and making plans for the weekend, but not even one hour later both of them had been on the couch, shivering and sneezing away one tissue box after another. Another two hours later they had been bedridden, moaning with pain and fever, sniffling and wheezing.

It was only now that he realised that it hadn't been a foghorn that had him wake up. It had been his boyfriend, blowing his massively stuffed-up nose.

“I'b sorry, did I wake you? I really tried to be quiet, but I just...ugh... I'b sorry...I'b go'dda..." 

It was a close call for Ross, being able to grab a new tissue and catch the sneeze just in time, but he managed. Another wet noise followed when he blew his nose again.

"I'b sorry, but 'by 'dose is killi'g 'be. Add 'by head."

"Yes, mine too. And my throat. I'm already dead, I believe. Also, every bone..."

"... add muscle existi’g in ‘by body hurts like hell."

If it weren't for them being so terribly ill, both of them would have laughed.

"The aftermath of a romantic Valentine's Day dinner. Next time we see a waitress behind a bar, secretly blowing her nose, we'll give heel! " Jim whined.

"I co'dsider that a good idea, but I'b afraid we wod't live to get in such a situation agai'd."

Ross blew his nose again, hoping it would help with the congestion.

"I wod't survive 'a'dother 'dight with that darn flu. 'By body cad't decide if it should burn or freeze, add that cough is goi'g to kill 'be. You know, every ti'be I sneeze, I feel like that emoji with the explodi'g head."

Again, Ross sneezed as if to proof himself, only to moan afterwards because of his increased headache. 

"Eve'd 'by eyes hurt."

Jim nodded sympathetically, before he felt his own nose itching. He reached out for the tissue box, unintentionally brushing Ross' hand, for the latter needed another one as well. It would have been romantic, if it weren't for the series of bone-shattering sneezes both of them released into their tissues. And the following trumpet concert when both blew their noses, didn't help either.

“With that synchronicity we can guess ourselves lucky we're not throwing up,” Jim mused.

Exhausted, both of them sank back into their pillows, each man huffing, sniffling and moaning with exertion, one hand on the forehead.

“I think I'm burning up again,” Jim stated, while Ross shook his head, his teeth chattering.

“I'b 'dot, I'b freezi'g. I feel so cold.”

“I feel so hot!”

“Hopefully, that blasted waitress feels guilty!”

While Ross pulled the duvet up to his chin, Jim pushed his one away, red in the face and sweating.

Ross' phone went off, and they could see Dwight's picture appearing on the screen.

"Why is he givi'g us a video call?"

Jim shrugged, not feeling up to a chit-chat with his boyfriend's best friend.

"Jus' pick up!"

Dwight, on the other side of the line, had almost hung up, because his friends took so long to answer the call, assuming they were either asleep or just too sick to move. Now, seeing both of them on the screen, he settled on 'too sick for everything'. Jim and Ross were in bed, upper body propped up and surrounded by piles of used tissues, a fresh tissue box in their middle. Their hair was a mess, their faces pale with bags and dark rings under their eyes. In contrast to that, their spectacular red noses were standing out, both of them dripping and being constantly wiped.

“I see, you didn't exaggerate!"

Jim opened his mouth to speak, but had to turn to the side when a coughing bout overtook him. Ross cleared his throat, pointing towards his boyfriend.

“What he said.”

Dwight couldn't help but feel worried at the sight of his friends. Both of them were normally bustling with energy, chatting lively and quick to laugh. But now, with the flu taking its toll on them, they were the epitome of misery.

“I've put the groceries on the kitchen counter. I made sure there's an extra load of tea and painkillers. And of course... Well, bless you!... I also thought of paper tissues, and a bottle of coughing syrup, as you really seem to need it.”

Full of pity he looked at Ross, who coughed violently into his elbow, tears in his eyes.

“Thanks mate,” Jim said with a hoarse voice. "You're really saving our arses here."

"If those start to sneeze and cough as well, give me a call!"

Ross, who had recovered from the earlier fit, rose up theatrically.

“We are dyi'g a slow add pai'dful death add you are 'baki'g fu'd of us? What ki'd of doctor are you?”

“A good one, since I did the grocery shopping for you. And Ross... Gesundheit!...There's nasal spray, too," Dwight deadpanned.

Ross, face buried in a paper tissue, nodded.

"Thaggs."

“You're welcome. But I didn't call to inform you over the shopping process. I actually wanted to check on my two favourite patients. So, you're suffering from a bad cough and terrible cold. I could hear that so far. What else? Are you running a fever?"

Both men nodded pitifully and huffed a sigh, emphasising their anguish.

"How bad?"

During the next 10 minutes Dwight assessed all their symptoms to get a proper picture, including pulse and temperature, which they had to take by themselves. Given both men were awfully sick, he insisted on strict bedrest, lots of fluids and aspirin for the fever. Besides that, there was nothing that could be done for them at the moment. Soon they said their goodbyes, not without Jim and Ross hinting it could be the last time they saw each other, and hung up.

While Jim drifted off, Ross lay awake, tossing and turning around, for every position was painful and uncomfortable. He stifled coughs and sneezes as best he could, and finally found a position he could rest, falling asleep eventually.

* * *

The next day didn't bring the improvement they had secretly hoped for, as they were running a high fever and had cool cloths put on their foreheads. Both men, having kleenex stuffed into their nostrils to keep the fluids from streaming down, were constantly producing different noises of sickness; be it huffing or wheezing, the occasional groan or the blasted coughs and sneezes. Ever since they had fallen ill, there hadn't been a quiet moment in their bedroom.

“I dod't feel better at all. O'd the co'dtrary, that head cold eve'd got worse. 'By ears pop everytime I swallow."

"I'm indeed aware of that. At least you  _ can _ swallow," Jim whined. "My throat hurts so much, I can barely speak. H-Ha-haachooo!!!"

"Add you have a bad …,” Ross' breathing hitched, “... bad cold as … as well. Haa'TCHEEW!"

Ross was bent forward by the sheer force of the sneeze, groaning in pain when a splitting headache exploded behind his eyes.

"As do you."

They sniffled quietly before Jim added, "we're fucked."

"I thi'gg we're goi'g to die. 'Do 'ban ca'd e'dure such terrible pain."

Ross had settled back into his pillow, rearranging his cloth and the makeshift nose plugs.

“It might even go faster, as we've run out of tea again."

Both men succumbed to the agony, asking themselves what they had done to deserve such torment.

“I think it's your turn to serve.”

“Dod't thigg so!”

“But I feel so bad."

"As do I."

“Rock-paper-scissors?”

* * *

Jim could hear Ross rummaging in the kitchen while preparing the tea for the two thermos jugs. When he came back, his boyfriend gifted him with a weak smile.

“I co'be with gifts!”

In his outstretched hand he held two pills, the painkillers Dwight had brought. When Ross was back in bed, they took the medicine with a sip of hot tea.

Jim looked over to Ross with his red dripping nose, pale skin and messed up hair and had to grin a little.

“You know, you may look a little less attractive at the moment...”

“Oi! You've also klee'dex stuffed up your 'dose!"

"... but if I am to die from that awful plague, I'm glad it's with you."

Ross smiled, and rubbed his nose on Jim's. Seriously, their flu couldn't get any worse, so that was safe.

"I'b glad you're here with 'be, too. But 'dext year, i'd case there's a life after the virus, we'll spe'd Valenti'de's Day at ho'be; far far away fro'b other people's germs."

Both men snickered, coughing only a little, and bundled up together in their bed, foreheads pressed together and noses booping. It could have been the perfect comfort-cuddling position, if not...

“Ross, I... I'm gonna..."

"I 'dow. I ... I thigg I ..."

They got their hands tangled while seeking for a tissue. Thus they ended up holding said hands while grabbing a used kleenex each to cover their noses. Their breaths hitched in unison before the inevitable explosions erupted.

"AACHOOO!" - “HAA' TCHEEEW!"

They sniffled miserably, wiping their sensitive noses and leaning back on their pillows with their hands still clasped tightly together.

“Bless ya, babe.” - “Gesundheit.”


End file.
